


Hot chocolate and promises

by ladyprydian



Series: Arthur and Eames's Seasonal Playlist [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 07:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12907239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyprydian/pseuds/ladyprydian
Summary: Eames is upset, Arthur figures out why.Note: Please do not redistribute my fanfiction on other archives or sites without my express permission. Thank you.





	Hot chocolate and promises

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, many thanks go out to [elephantfootprints](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elephantfootprints/pseuds/elephantfootprints) for the beta. This work wouldn't be anywhere near as good without their assistance. Any left over spelling and grammar errors are my own.

The coloured lights blinked cheerfully on the little Christmas tree that was set up by the balcony door so it would be visible to anyone passing by on the street below. The tree was decorated mostly with handmade ornaments, the occasional store or craft sale purchased ones hung beside looping paper chains, hand cut snowflakes, dreidels, menorahs, and reindeer with googly eyes that Eames had made out of clothespins. 

One of the reindeer was perpetually cross-eyed; Eames had made up a whole song about “Winkin’ the cross-eyed reindeer” whose tune was remarkably similar to from Rudolph. When Arthur pointed this out, Eames’s plans on creating the next big Christmas song, making millions, and retiring to an island in the Caribbean were dashed.

On a side table, beside the tree, sat a menorah, brassy golden in colour with a star of David on it. The candles from Hanukkah were still in place, but unlit. A dreidel rested beside it. In a small bowl there were some chocolate coins; the scrunched up remains of a foil wrapper lay beside.

Despite Eames’s best efforts there was no polyester elf costume this year. “Where is your elf costume?” Eames had asked the day after Thanksgiving as he and Arthur helped Arthur’s Mom put up her Christmas lights. “You should be in your elf costume for this.”

“Oh for the love of... really? You’re thinking about that now? Just hold the damned ladder!” Arthur had replied.

“The view from down here would be spectacular if you were in your elf costume.”

“Christ, Eames! Don’t make me laugh or I’ll fall.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

For days afterwards Eames searched the closets, boxes and drawers, pulling everything out to see if he could find Arthur’s old elf costume. Clearly, over the course of the last few years it got lost in the shuffle of moving house and discarded.

“It’s gone! How could it be gone!” Eames lamented, clothing, shoes and various other sundry from the front closet surrounded him.

“Jeeze Eames! It was just a pair of green and red tights and tunic! I doubt it would fit anymore and probably ended up in a bag of clothing donations after the last time we moved!” Arthur snapped. The place was a mess and Arthur needed it cleaned up fast. “Now help me clean up this chaos you created. Stuff is now everywhere and I can’t find a damned thing!” 

+++

“I think I have everything ready for tomorrow,” Arthur said coming into the room, two steaming mugs and a plate of cookies in hand. He set the mugs down on the coffee table, the plate of shortbread cookies between them. He sat down beside Eames. The TV was softly playing _White Christmas_ , Bob was inviting the veterans of the 151st Division to come to Pine Tree, Vermont. 

Arthur chewed on his lip and ran through a mental check list. Presents for the families, packed in the laundry basket for ease of portability, were by the door. A salad was in the fridge and a tin of gingerbread cookies, from the bakery a block away, were waiting to be brought to Eames’s parents house the next day. 

“Hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream and some of Mom’s shortbread,” Arthur said reaching for one of the mugs on the coffee table. The mug he took was just hot chocolate. Arthur wrinkled his nose at the marshmallow and whipped cream monstrosity that Eames preferred. 

“Thanks, love,” Eames said flatly. 

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked. He’d been so wrapped up in Christmas preparations that he hadn’t notice that Eames was not his normal self. “You’re usually bouncing off the walls by now, singing carols and trying to guess what your presents are.”

“Oh, nothing,” Eames said. 

Arthur set his mug back on the table and turned to face Eames, tucking one leg underneath. Thinking back, he realized Eames has been like this for a while. Arthur worried at his lower lip. “This isn’t about the Elf costume is it? I said I was sorry about donating it. I wouldn’t have if I knew it meant so much to you.”

Eames sighed again. “It’s not that, well not entirely that. I do miss that costume, it was a, well I thought of it as a tradition between us. It was our thing, this silly costume Christmas thing that was a joke between us, do you know what I mean?”

Arthur nodded as Eames continued. “We did it for years and, yeah. It hurt that you just tossed it without even asking me. We’re here now and can make new traditions and… well,” Eames paused then shrugged. 

“Oh Eames, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize you thought of that costume that way. Arthur said leaning in to give Eames a quick kiss. “I promise to never again ruin one of our traditions. Tell me next time, okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine and I will. I promise. Thanks, love,” Eames said with a sad smile. “It’s more the other thing I’m sad about that’s silly.”

“What’s this other thing that’s bothering you? Is there something I can do? Is it something I did?” Arthur asked. 

Eames shook his head. “No, not anything you did. It’s just … this is our first Christmas on our own together. In our own apartment with our own things and… well. There’s no snow.” He gave Arthur another sad smile. “It should be perfect, there should be snow, and snowmen and snowball fights. We should have done that by now. There should always be snow at Christmas and there’s none this year. It’s been raining the whole time and everything looks soggy and wet not beautiful and crisp.” Eames gave up talking and just motioned at the window.

Arthur looked outside, the window was splattered with rain drops giving a colourful hue to the neighbor's Christmas lights in the otherwise damp looking night. He put his cup down on the coffee table. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I agree it’s not as Christmassy feeling if there was snow.” He curled closer into Eames’s side, draping Eames’s free arm over his shoulders. “But it’s still Christmas. We’ll get my Mom and go over to your parents’ tomorrow and stuff ourselves with turkey while wearing paper crowns. We’ll still open presents and drink too much wine and eggnog and probably end up spending the night so we don’t have to drive. Then we’ll have a massive brunch the next morning because everyone will be hung over.”

“Yeah,” Eames said. He shifted to set his cup on the coffee table and tucked Arthur in closer, then ducked his head for a kiss. On the TV the men from the 151st were singing a rousing chorus of _The Old Man_. “Yeah, it will. It will be good, snow or no snow.” His voice sounded more confident. “We’ll do all of that and it will be good.” 

Arthur cupped Eames’s face in his hands as he kissed him. Eames tasted of chocolate and marshmallows. There was the rasp of Eames’s stubble against his fingers and lips. He could faintly smell the lingering hints of Eames’s sandalwood aftershave. As the kisses deepened and lingered, Arthur leaned in, nudging Eames closer to the arm of the sofa, so he could crawl into his lap. 

On the TV it was snowing in Pine Tree, Vermont. Bob and Betty had declared their love for each other and the opening notes to _White Christmas_ were playing. Arthur cuddled closer to Eames, thinking about what Eames did that year he was a Christmas elf at the ‘take a photo with Santa’ place in the mall. How in years past, Eames would hum carols under his breath without realizing. As the song started, Arthur sang along with Bob and Betty, 

_“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know._

_“Where the treetops glisten and children listen, to hear sleigh bells in the snow.”_ Eames took one of Arthur’s hands in his, and kissed along the knuckles. 

_“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, with every Christmas card I write,”_ Eames joined in, wrapping his arms loosely around Arthur’s waist. Arthur brushed his knuckles down Eames’s cheek. 

_“May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white.”_ They sang together. Arthur leaned in and kissed Eames deeply. 

“It might not be a white Christmas,” Arthur said after breaking the kiss. “But I promise you, it will be a merry and bright one.”

“Darling, how could it not be when I’m with you?” Eames asked with a smile. 

Arthur laughed, “Ridiculous, you are ridiculous.” 

Arthur grinned then kissed Eames again. It was going to be merry and bright alright, Arthur was sure of that. No, he couldn’t make it snow in a perfectly time Hollywood moment like the one that was playing on the TV. And no, he couldn’t make Eames ecstatically happy right now by wearing the elf costume. 

“Hey,” Arthur said nudging Eames in the side, “put on the Muppets Christmas Carol. I love watching that on Christmas Eve with you.”

Eames’s smile became tender, he gently pressed his forehead against Arthur’s.“Me too, darling. Me too.”


End file.
